Of Hugs and Hangovers
by green7silver
Summary: Five times Frank screwed up and Jim forgave him, and one time he didn t. With an epilogue again, because I like happy endings. Companion piece of "The smell of alcohol and sweat".
1. 2238

2238  
Frank longed for getting utterly trashed. But of course, he couldn´t do that. He had honestly done enough wrong for this weekend. He hated visits at the Kirks. Of course he knew that Sam and Jim should see both grandparents from time to time. But the Kirks looked down their noses at him even more than Winona´s parents, despising the man who had taken the place of their dead son and claiming that he just wanted to capitalize her fame for himself. 

What the hell did they know? He had loved the woman since he was fifteen. He was no George Kirk, and he knew that she really was out of his league. But at least he could take care of her and her kids after all that had happened to them. 

Not that said kids were particularly happy about his care. Especially Sam, who was antagonizing him any time he could. He understood that the boy missed his father, but it still hurt that he couldn´t even see how hard Frank tried to do everything right.

And this time, after this afternoon of humiliation, his nerves were stretched thin as a thread, Sam had repeated the accusation of his grandparents, probably without even understanding it, and Frank snapped. 

He had yelled angry and hurtful words at the boys until Sam was pale and sweating, and Jim was openly crying. 

And he had no idea how to make it up to the kids. He was not good – scratch that – he was horrible with things like that. 

Frustrated, he hit the wall of the barn so hard that his knuckles were bloody afterwards. 

"Doesn´t that hurt?" The quiet question pulled him out of his stupor. Little Jim was watching him curiously, but was also wary, ready to bolt if Frank´s wrath was directed against him. 

"A bit," Frank sat down carefully not to scare the boy away. The younger one was not as angry with him as Sam was, probably because he had no recollection of his father.

"Why did you do it then?" The boy seemed calmed by his lack of anger. 

"I was angry with myself," Frank tried to explain, "For shouting at you and your brother." 

"It scared us," Jim agreed, "Why were you so angry with us?"

"I wasn´t angry with you. It was..." the man had no idea how to explain to the five year old how uncomfortable he felt with the Kirks. "I didn´t feel well. Your grandparents..."

"They said not nice things to you. But that wasn´t our fault." 

"No, it wasn´t. I just took my frustration out on you," Frank hung his head. "I´m sorry." 

"It´s alright," Jim came over an examined his hand. "You should get that dressed."


	2. 2240

2240

Frank had a hangover and felt slightly disorientated when he woke up. He wasn´t in his bedroom, but in the living room. It had been ages since the last time he passed out on the couch.

Then he remembered that Winona had started her nine month mission yesterday, and sighed internally. He missed her already, her scent, her presence, her laughter.

He also had no idea how to survive alone with the kids for so long. He was so not made for this.  
It hadn´t, of course, helped to get drunk and allow Sam to engage him in a shouting match. The boy was just hurting, and Frank should have found a way to ease his pain.

Unfortunately he was not good with things like that and Sam was antagonizing him in any way that counted, always quoting his late father. Frank really began to hate George Kirk.

And of course he had hurt the boy even more instead of helping.

A movement to his left alerted him to Jim´s presence. Dazedly, he recalled that the boy had come in late at night crying.

Really great. After fighting with Sam he had forgotten the younger child, who had been forced to snuggle up to a drunken, snoring idiot to get any comfort over his mother´s departure.  
Ashamed, Frank ran his hand through the boy´s golden locks.

Jim woke up and yawned. "Good morning."

"Good morning. Are you alright, kid? I wasn´t much help yesterday."

"That´s okay. We all miss her." Jim got up. "Are we making breakfast now?"

Breakfast sounded good. He really needed a lot of coffee to figure out how to get all three of them through the next nine months alive.


	3. 2245

2245  
Frank woke up with a hammering headache, nausea, and the feeling that his tongue had been transformed into something furry. That was really a hell of a hangover.  
Then he remembered the last day. The hateful words with which he had driven Sam away, this time probably for good, his shouting at Jim after the desperate boy had stolen the Corvette, and then the call from the police, that his stepson had driven the car into a stone pit. That Jim hadn't been gravely hurt was short of a miracle, and God knew where Sam had slept last night.  
He felt an enormous wave of self hate in his throat and ran to the toilet to vomit. So long that his arms began to tremble and he was near in tumbling over. But suddenly small hands were supporting him. Jim.  
The boy kept him upright until he was finally done, and then somehow managed to help him back to the couch.  
While Frank leaned his heavy head against his pillow, Jim went to the kitchen and came back with painkillers, water, coffee, and a complete breakfast.  
By now, he knew the best cure of a hangover pretty well, Frank acknowledged with a feeling of unease. Still, he was grateful as the combination of painkillers and coffee cleared his head and the food settled his uneasy stomach.  
"Better now?" Jim watched him from the other side of the couch.  
"Yes, thank you," but Frank couldn't meet the eyes of his stepson. He felt miserable and guilty.  
"No, you aren't." Jim scooted closer, "What's wrong?"  
"You mean beside the fact that I drove off your brother and nearly got you killed?"  
"You didn't nearly get me killed," Jim frowned at him. "It was my decision to take the car and I drove it into the stone pit."  
"Yes, but you were angry and hurt because I had driven your brother away. And what I told you over the comm was unfriendly and hurtful- and the wrong thing to say, as usual. If I had found the words, maybe you wouldn't have gotten into this danger. I'm so sorry for shouting at you and Sam, and for all of the other stupid things I do. I really suck as a stepfather."  
"You try," Jim offered. "And I know that it was Sam who started the fighting as usual."  
"Yeah, but I'm the adult. I should keep a cool head instead of loosing my temper each time. I shouldn't shout back. I really didn't want your brother to leave. I care for both of you, even if I don't seem to be able to show it. I'm so sorry."  
"I know." His stepson squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. "We will manage it together somehow."


End file.
